"Troy Putnam was a fool," Zimbardo announced in a quiet voice edged
with steel. "His plan might have worked-might have worked, if I had had
more part in planning-but he was no more than a conceited ignoramus!
The Starmen walked in on him and took him completely by surprise! I can
just imagine how his face must have looked as he realized his plan was
over and he was led off to jail. A fool! We are better off without him!"
"Better off without him?" asked one man in a dull voice. "What do you
mean, Lurton? Better off for what?"
"Don't be a fool yourself, Crass!" Zimbardo sneered. "You think we're
finished here? We will still get what we want and it won't be very
difficult! We don't need Putnam and we don't need a few hundred men,
either! You can be thankful you're here instead of locked in a stone
room in Eagle City eating square, plain, healthy meals off of a metal
tray! The collapse of Putnam's big dream is the best thing that could
have happened for us!"
A muscular, unsmiling man on Zimbardo's right swung his gaze to the
speaker. "It sounds as if you have a plan, Mr. Zimbardo." The man was
in his early thirties and resembled a street fighter. His carefully
combed dark hair made him look almost strikingly handsome, but his eyes
were black and humorless.
Zimbardo turned toward the man.
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